The Crooked Gulch
by BeneathAWesternSky
Summary: Anette Louiselle is hiding her identity in South Dakota when the New Monroe Republic begins to expand its borders. The Plains Nations are slowly being overtaken as the New Monroe Republic exerts its dominance, and Anette Louiselle is caught in the middle of the struggle. Through her struggles, her new relationship with General Sebastian Monroe is complex.
1. Chapter 1

**The Crooked Gulch**

Chapter 1

The sun shone brightly through the windows that lined the side of the classroom in which Anette Louiselle taught her lesson on the Emancipation Proclamation. She spoke clearly and concisely about the struggles of the War Between the States, gesticulating with her hands as she walked down the center row of desks that split the classroom in two. The students seated followed her every move with their eyes.

"It is surprising, then," she said, "that not thee days later, the president signed off on the mass execution of thirty-eight Dakota men. The largest mass execution in United States history." She paused. "Let that sink in. The country that was fighting to give freedom to an entire race of people could still look at Indians as less than human. I want you all to think about how this applies to you in your lives. Not literally, but… Your words are only as strong as your actions. Class dismissed."

Students rose from their desks and gathered their belongings. Anette taught a class on history to young adolescents who chose to come. Long gone were the days of compulsory school. Anette vaguely thought of how schooling was before the blackout, and how youths today had no idea what a luxury an education was.

As she smiled and said her goodbyes to her students, she noted the darkly clad individuals standing in the hall. The students veered out of their way as they exited the classroom, shooting glances over their shoulders as they made their way down the hallway. Anette took a breath to bolster herself before who-knows-what came along with these specters.

There were three in total, only one of whom spoke.

"Anette Louiselle?" the highest ranking of them spoke in a deep voice, his dark brown eyes framed in frown lines. Anette thought briefly about playing dumb.

"Uh," she faultered. Clearing her throat, she spoke more forcefully, wishing to command an air of selfassuredness. "What can I do for you?"

"I've been sent to convey a message from General Monroe."

For the past four months, General Monroe's men had been present in South Dakota, aggressive at first in their presence, and as of recently, deceptively diplomatic.

"Yes?" Anette crossed her arms, wishing not to show her discomfort.

"You're wanted by the General. He wishes to speak with you."

Anette furrowed her brow. "Is there something wrong?"

The captain huffed, "I couldn't say one way or another. I think the fact that you're not being brought to him in handcuffs is sufficient to assuage your fears, miss."

"Right, well… When?"

"Tomorrow at eight."

"In the morning?"

The captain shifted, indicating he was gearing up to leave. "Yes. I advise you arrive on time. The general does not wait." Without a word further, the captain and his two silent underlings turned heel and left the classroom.

Anette's heart beat faster in their absence. In the four months of the New Monroe Republic's presence, not once had she been spoken to by any of the higher ranking officers. Suddenly the general wanted to speak directly to her.

_I knew this setup was too good to be true_ she thought, chastising herself for choosing South Dakota. What choice did she have but to show? Not showing would be a red flag. She steadied herself and prepared mentally for whatever may come the next day. If there was ever a time for Anette to prepare for a performance, it was now.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Crooked Gulch**

Chapter 2

Anette sat in her kitchen, fully dressed, a mug of loose-leaf tea on the table in front of her. The sun had not come up yet, and she sat quietly contemplating what would happen in the next few hours, a royal blue light illuminating the kitchen walls. This was her favorite time of the day, but she could not bring herself to enjoy it.

_I could still run_, she thought, finally taking a sip of her tea that was no longer scalding hot. Still, she stayed glued to her wooden chair. She picked at a hangnail that had formed on her thumb, and willed herself to leave it alone. Unable to stay any longer and do nothing, she put on her tan suede and wool lined coat, pulling her long, dark brown hair out from inside the jacket.

Outside she mounted her mare, Copper, and set out for Sioux Falls, where the New Monroe Republic militia had set up camp. It was a good hour's journey if the horse were going at a slow, walking pace. Unwilling to push her mare and show up way before schedule, Anette watched the sun rise as she listened to the clopping of Copper's hooves.

Her stomach tied in knots as she neared the militia camp in Sioux Falls. Reaching a stall to tie up Copper's reigns, she dismounted and secured her horse. Copper quickly set about drinking from the water trough in front of her, and Anette turned to make her way through the tents set up around main street. A lot of the buildings that had been standing before the blackout were turned into apothecaries, and hospitals—if you could call them that anymore. One of Sioux Falls' crowning glories stood proud, and unmarred. The courthouse, a beautiful Romanesque building, had been miraculously preserved in the chaos that followed the blackout. It also happened to be the building that General Monroe had been using as his living quarters for the last four months. He had killed a Lakota clan leader to take up residence there. Anette knew the man personally. The thought of it made her blood boil, but she set the feeling aside for later. Now wasn't the time for that.

Nearing a tent with an open flap, Anette entered and cleared her throat. A clerk at a small table looked up from behind half moon spectacles. _This man definitely doesn't fit the militia mold_, Anette thought_. I guess someone has to handle the books_. Before the kindly looking clerk had a chance to speak, the same captain that had unpleasantly visited her classroom the day before interrupted him.

"Miss Louiselle, you're to come this way," he said brusquely, and showed her out of the tent.

Anette was led into the courthouse, and was taken to the top floor, where she was asked to hold her arms out for a pat-down. Pressing her lips firmly together, she lifted her arms, despite her strong desire to tell the guard at the door where exactly he could stick it. After she was confirmed to have no weapons on her besides the pocket knife that belonged to her father, she was allowed inside.

"You'll have this back when you leave," the sour faced captain said as he pocketed the knife. The doors were opened, and she was led into a room that had been warmed by a fire. The original construction of the building did not include a fireplace, so a new stone fireplace had been built near a window, which served as a makeshift chimney.

Her eyes drifted from the new masonry to a curly haired man sitting at a broad wooden desk, writing intently with a fountain pen. Considering him for a moment, Anette's stomach gave a small lurch. The exact nature of this feeling unnerved her, and she swallowed to steel herself.

Behind her she heard the resounding thud of the door being closed. She whipped around in surprise to find that she and General Monroe had been left alone. Turning back around, she looked at Monroe and silently begged for him to speak.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Louiselle," Monroe said, eyes still fixed on his paper.

Unsure what to say, Anette stayed silent.

"You surely know why I've asked for you to come?" His tone sent ice to Anette's stomach. His blue eyes finally shot up to meet her dark amber colored eyes. She was sure it was over at that point.

Finding her voice, she spoke, "I can't say as I do, general."

Putting the pen down beside his work, the general stood, tugging on the bottom of his black cotton and leather jacket. He made his way from behind the desk, over to a set of chairs, a sofa and a coffee table sat. On it was a porcelain tea set. He gestured to the sofa, indicating he wished her to sit.

_Oh, just say it already_, she thought.

She sat nervously on the sofa, but tried to not give too much of herself away. She held his gaze.

"Coffee?" the general stood, pouring himself a cup.

Coffee was hard to come by up north. She hadn't had a cup of coffee since her eighteenth birthday. She guessed the general hadn't gone that long since his last cup.

"Yes, thank you." He poured her cup, and she took it. Before taking her first sip, she hesitantly asked, "You were saying, general?"

He had been studying her face as she took her first sip of coffee. "Yes, I was. I've been made aware of your actions, Miss Louiselle." He paused to gauge her reaction, which she refused him the satisfaction of having.

"It's been brought to my attention that you have been teaching American History in your small village. Because you must be a learned woman, I won't insult you by assuming you haven't heard of the war between Texas and the patriots. What I want to know is why, after these events, you've deemed it prudent to teach seditious history."

Anette tried to hide her relief. Her mind raced as she searched for an answer.

"General I…" She began. "I don't teach American History in a seditious manner. I have never considered myself a patriot. My people have been happy in the absence of the United States. I assume you can understand why."

The general stood from several feet away, drinking his coffee before it grew cold. Half finished, he set the cup down in front of Anette, and sat close to her, facing sideways. He lounged coolly, arm over the back of the sofa, leg propped up on the other.

"You're Sioux?" he asked, prodding her along on her explanation.

"I'm Lakota, yes." She said, strongly. "General, I teach history to students who come of their own accord. I think it's a natural curiosity, to wonder about the past, especially since none of them were alive before the blackout. And most of my students themselves are Lakota. They want to know their history too."

The general sat, studying her face. Unnerved, Anette suddenly became very interested in the contents of her cup, and looked only at her coffee ask she continued to speak, wishing to fill the silence.

"General, I assure you none of us are patriots."

"You wouldn't mind then if there is a militia presence in the school." It was more a statement than a question.

Anette nearly stood up and stormed out at the thought of armed men in her classroom.

"You see, I have no reason to take your word in this matter as truth." Monroe was resolute.

"What kind of presence?" Anette said through her anger, attempting to mask it as best as possible.

"A representative of my choosing will occasionally come in, unannounced and observe your lessons. Question students."

"Who am I to refuse?" Anette lost her taste for her coffee, and set it beside Monroe's. "I will accommodate your representative in what ever way I can. If only to prove to you that there is no seditious behavior occurring in my classroom. I ask though that after you are satisfied, you will discontinue a militia presence in my place of learning."

"I will consider it. Thank you, Miss Louiselle." The general, satisfied with Anette's acquiescence, rose from the sofa and walked towards his chair at the large oak desk. "You may take your leave."

Anette rose, and spoke not another word. With her hand on the doorknob, she was stopped in her tracks by Monroe's voice.

"Oh, and Miss Louiselle. You wouldn't happen to know of a man named Raymond Redcloud, would you?"

Anette gripped the handle, and willed herself to turn to meet Monroe's gaze.

"No, general. Should I?"

"As you know, Miss Louiselle, there are bands of Sioux men and women across the Plains Nations that have given my militia… some trouble. If you know where I might find this man, it would be in your best interest to tell me."

"I'm sorry I can't help you, General." Anette left the room, trying to ignore the vaguely amused look that was on Monroe's face as she closed the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

The Crooked Gulch

Chapter 3

"Everyone, calm down," a clear voice spoke over the murmur of the crowd.

Anette raised her hands, and waited for silence. The room full of people eventually stopped speaking, and allowed Anette to address them.

"So far, it seems that the Republic is grasping at straws. However, General Monroe did ask me about Raymond. Now, I know that none of us are sure of his whereabouts right now, but I must ask that you inform your children to remain tight-lipped about any association with him, moreso for your protection than for his."

A woman in the front with black hair, accented by thousands of silver strands, spoke calmly, with her hands grasping the opposite arm, more for comfort than for warmth, "Anette, you can trust that our children will be smart, but what about you?"

"What about me?" Anette asked.

"What if they ask about you?" The crowd's murmur picked up again.

"You tell them exactly what you have been telling them. I am teaching your children. I have cousins here in Elk Lodge, and before I came here, you're not sure where I was. Anything more and you tell me."

Anette sighed her herself. "I know I've put you in a dangerous position. I do thank you for all that you have done. If it appears that my presence puts you in harms way, I will leave. But I will not leave you if I don't have to."

And it was true. Anette wouldn't leave her friends, her tribespeople, if she didn't have to. She did once, and it was the worst time of her life. But she was aware that her own selfish desire to cling to childhood days and innocence were folly.

Anette watched the window of the door to her classroom for three days, apprehensive about the visitor she knew would darken the doorway any time. She had lost her appetite since her meeting with General Monroe, and only been able to stomach bread and butter. By the time a member of the militia showed up, Anette was almost relieved that the wait was over.

A young man about her age peered through the door and let himself in. Stopping her lecture, Anette addressed her alarmed looking students about their new visitor.

"Class, a member of the Monroe militia will be present periodically, but there's nothing for you to be fearful of. Just pretend he isn't here."

The man with curly, black hair smirked at her announcement, and made himself comfortable at the back of the room, hands clasped behind his back, leaning against the side wall on his right arm. He had a cool and cocky air about him that Anette didn't like. Trying to not let her lecture about the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 be derailed, she picked up where she left off. She ended the day's lesson a little earlier than she would have normally, but wishing to get her students out of there as soon as possible, she pushed her luck as much as she could.

Before the students were able to leave, the young man in the back spoke with authority, "Miss Louiselle, if I may, I'd like a few of your students to stay behind so I can speak with them."

Anette looked upon her students with pity. She picked the two most mature boys she had, and let the rest of them go. "Jason, George, would you mind staying? The rest of you may go." Eagerly, the rest of the students rushed out the door faster than they normally would have.

Jason and George looked as if they wanted to protest, but before they _could,_ Anette spoke gently to them, "It's alright, you're not in trouble, I promise. Isn't that right…"

"Major Bennett." The young man had yet to introduce himself.

'So young to be a major,' Anette thought with some suspicion.

"If you'll just wait outside I'll speak with them alone, Miss Louiselle."

Locking eyes with George and Jason, Anette sighed and let herself out into the hallway, closing the door. It must have been half an hour before the young Major dismissed the two boys. Anette stood up from her slumped position against the wall, and walked towards the doorway.

"Miss Louiselle, if you'll just step inside, please." Once inside, Anette found that the desk that was normally behind her desk was now in the middle of the two rows of desks that faced each other. "Take a seat."

"I'd rather not." Anette, defiantly crossed her arms, and supported her weight on one hip.

"I must insist." Major Bennett broadened his stance, and Anette decided there would be no arguing with this haughty officer.

As a sign of her distaste for the whole situation, she sat down in a huff, and crossed her legs and arms.

After some time of the major walking around her, considering his first question, he spoke, "Miss Louiselle, do you like teaching here?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I do."

"Then I must urge you to be as truthful with me as you possibly can, else your days here are numbered. How long have you been teaching here?"

Anette's heart beat faster. "A year, give or take."

Major Bennett nodded his head and stopped directly in front of her, "and where were you before you settled in this village?"

"What concern of yours is it?"

"Oh it most definitely is my concern," Major Bennett said. "You see, my father's position here depends on the activities of those in the realm of the New Monroe Republic."

"Your…"

"Yes, Miss Louiselle, General Monroe is my father. Then you understand why I am concerned for his safety and the security of the Republic."

"I…" she began. Well that explains the early promotion, she thought. 'Nepotism is a hell of a thing' Anette thought with disdain. "Canada." That was all she was willing to give him.

"I see," the general's son crossed his arms. "And in your time in the Kingdom of Canada did you ever meet a man named Raymond Redcloud?"

Anette licked her lips. "That's the second time I've been asked, and for the second time I'll say it, I don't know a Raymond Redcloud."

"Miss Louselle, do I look like a stupid man?"

Anette considered the question for a moment, desperately wishing to reply with a resounding yes. She fought the urge. "No, I can't say you do."

"You see, when I have a hunch about a person, I'm generally right. I happen to think you're lying."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, major, but my answer remains the same."

The major smiled a toothy grin. "I thought you might say that. In that case, Miss Louiselle, please understand if the Monroe Militia sticks around in this little hamlet of yours for a while longer." Wishing to leave on a high note, the major left Anette sitting there in her own chair. She sat there for a good ten minutes shaking.


	4. Chapter 4

The Crooked Gulch

Chapter 4

**_September of 2016, Winnipeg, Kingdom of Canada_**

_**Four Years After the Blackout**_

_It was an instinctive move. She'd done it a million times, most often when she was nervous or when she was deep in contemplation. Anette reached up to grab the braid which she had draped over her shoulder, and twirled it in her fingers. At this point, Anette wasn't thinking much of anything. A vague sense of numbness had enveloped her, as if she were in a balcony, watching a play on a stage. A part of the performance, but only as a spectator, which was ironic, because it was, after all, her wedding day._

_The adults in the room were speaking, she knew that, but she simply didn't register what they were talking about. Some ten men were gathered around a large oak table, signing a single, long piece of paper. Half were people she didn't know. The other half were people she would come to know soon enough. She studied the faces of her brother, her uncle, her cousin, and two war chiefs of her tribe. She wished at this moment she had a photograph of them all. Why didn't she have a photograph? She had meant to grab one of the photos taken before the blackout, but in her haste to leave, it slipped her mind._

_"Anette," a voice broke her trance. Rousing herself, she looked at her uncle._

_"Hmm?"_

_"Are you ready?" Her uncle's eyes were framed in lines created over the last four years. He had shouldered a terrible burden. He had raised her and her brother for the last three years. He dared not betray his own emotions on this day. He told himself it was not defeat. It was an alliance. He was never a very good liar._

_"Yes," Anette stood, and walked towards her uncle._

_"We just need you to sign, little bird," her uncle's term of endearment made Anette's eyes well up. She blinked back her tears. She knew what was expected of her. She would hold up her end of the bargain._

_Taking the fountain pen in her hand, Anette approached the table where the treaty rested. Before she could bring the pen down to the line she was supposed to sign, she locked eyes with him. The man who would, in a matter of minutes, be her husband._

_His dark blue eyes locked onto hers, and she quickly cast her gaze down to the paper. She could feel the blood drain from her cheeks. She was, after all, only sixteen years old. She had only begun to be interested in boys, and had even less experience with men._

_She signed her name with trepidation. After her name was signed, she let the pen fall from her hand, and looked to the man who'd crowned himself a king. She had not heard much about him. He was impossible to read._

_In a blurry few minutes, Anette had agreed to her marriage in a very fast and unassuming ceremony. There was no kiss to "seal the deal." This left Anette both relieved and disappointed._

_As was customary, the Sioux band who had followed Anette's family in the fight against the Canadians, feasted and celebrated the union of the King of Canada, and such a beloved daughter of the Sioux. Her father had been a war chief, and she was herself a descendant of the great Sioux figure Crazy Horse. In the years following the blackout, the Sioux, among other tribes of North America, had begun to return to their traditional culture. Anette's family had been well respected because of the leadership roles they all filled._

_Along with traditional culture being revived, the rules on marriage had been loosened as well. Anette being sixteen was untraditional, and would have been uncouth if not for the fact that their marriage established peace between the white Canadians and the Native Americans that made up both Canada and the Plains Nation. Her people had been fighting tirelessly under the oppression of the Canadian King, but her uncle was able to broker a treaty under which the Sioux were allowed to maintain some form of autonomy while still being subject to the Canadian King's rules when under his domain. Anette was young, but she was mature enough to understand that she was a bargaining chip. As long as Anette were with him, the Redcloud family would instruct the other Sioux bands that they were to stop their acts of aggression against the Canadians._

_Anette had sat next to her new husband the whole evening. Anette had eaten little of what had been prepared for the festivities. She knew what would follow at the end of the evening. It left a pit in her stomach. However, his demeanor began to change from what she had seen in the meeting hall. He was no longer silent, but had complimented her traditional regalia, saying she looked lovely, and asked her light questions fit for mixed company. This eased her fears only slightly._

_Anette would steal glances at her husband. She thought he was not an unattractive man. He had a noble air about him. He had salt and pepper hair that was long enough to need to be brushed out of his eyes, but she thought to herself he looked much too young in the face to have such silver hair. She thought perhaps he was in his early thirties._

_It seemed like the night dragged on and on, and by the time the fires began to die down, Damian Boulard, Anette's royal husband, took her hand and helped her to her feet. "If you will, Anette, I think we should make our leave."_

_He even spoke like a king. Not daring to look at the faces of her family members out of embarrassment for what she knew they knew would follow, she allowed herself to be led away by her husband. Once they were behind the closed doors of the manor that was offered up as a temporary home by a Winnipeg aristocrat, Anette truly felt alone._

_Behind the closed doors of the bedroom, Damian Boulard showed Anette more kindness than she had expected to receive on her wedding night. He approached her with a warm smile on his face, putting both hands gently on the sides of her neck. He leaned down and kissed Anette on the cheek._

_"You've been so nervous all night I could almost feel your nerves vibrating off you."_

_Anette took in a breath of air and nodded, relieved that he was even aware of her feelings. "Yeah. You caught that huh?"_

_"I don't ever want you to feel uncomfortable with me," Damian backed up, and walked towards a table opposite the fireplace. He began to undo the buttons of his military style coat, no doubt reserved for the finest of occasions. It was almost completely black, but trimmed in gold piping in a few areas. The buttons were a matching golden color. He poured himself a glass of whiskey at the table, and stood staring at the fireplace._

_Anette swallowed, bracing herself, and did what seemed to her to be the right thing. She took from her hair the beaded hairpiece that a woman in her clan had made. She set it at the foot of the four-poster bed, and shook her hair out. Her heart raced with anticipation. Seeing her do so, Damian put his glass down, and before she knew it he was standing again in front of her, seemingly towering over her. He tilted her chin up with his hand and kissed her lips, this time with an entirely different intent._

_"Not tonight," he said, after kissing his young bride. "Not yet. When you're ready."_

_That night Anette learned how tender and kind her husband could be. She was thankful for it. She thought to herself that night, while sleeping next to her husband, that this might not be the worst thing that could happen to her. She could even maybe come to love him eventually._

_It would be another two years before she saw the side she came to hate so much, which, even years later, would wrench her from her sleep in tears._


	5. Chapter 5

[Dear readers, I apologize for the delay- the holidays get the best of me! I've had this chapter written for a week or so but am just now getting to publish it.]

**The Crooked Gulch**

Chapter 5

Sebastian Monroe rubbed his temples behind the desk he had called his for the last several months. It had been almost a year and a half since he had begun putting the pieces of the Monroe Republic back together. It had taken an enormous toll on him. He wasn't even sure it was worth all the effort. There he sat, looking at a newly rendered map of the political division of the North American continent. The old Monroe Republic was mostly under the control of the New Monroe Republic, save for states like Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire. Pennsylvania was a wasteland. Looking to set up a new capitol, Bass had settled on Chicago. It was still metropolitan enough that he felt civilized when he was in his own capitol, but it also opened up his militia's range of motion. He now looked westward towards the Plains Nations and hoped to expand his territory. He was amazed at how quickly clans fell, but not surprised that after they did, clans began pledging their fealty to the New Monroe Republic.

The only groups within the Plains Nations that were giving the militia trouble were the Indians. The blackout had given them all the chance to revive their cultures, taking up hunting and resuming semi-nomadic lifestyles. They were protective of their regained sovereignty. Bass understood that, he really did. But it was no longer about securing the Republic for himself. He had regained his son's trust after what happened in Texas—painstakingly. He wasn't about to lose it over some merry band of Indians.

This was what brought him to South Dakota. By far the most powerful of all the tribes had been the Sioux and all their factions (Lakota, Redbud, Santee, among others). And they had offered by far the most resistance against the changing political tides. After interrogating several Chickasaws and Apaches, Bass had discovered his weak link. The Redcloud family. He just had to be sure before he could act on his suspicions.

Bass's attention was diverted from the map that seemed like a blur from behind his mounting headache when the door to his study was opened. His son strode in, easily carrying in his stride the ego of two men. He was his son, alright.

"Dad," Connor said, inflecting the word with mocking affectation.

Bass sighed, and stood, carrying with him his third glass of single malt whiskey. "Well?" Bass had his fingertips on the table, the other hand raising the glass to his scruffy mouth.

"I spoke with her," Connor paused for effect. He didn't need to. Bass looked at him with impatient eyes.

"I'm fairly certain it's her."

"What makes you so sure?" Bass regarded his son with that cold expression of his.

"The kids I talked to told the same story as everyone else in Elk Lodge. It's too perfect. Not a single one of them has told any differing information."

"That's an admission of guilt?" Bass swirled his drink in its glass, looking to the bottom of it.

"They really seem protective of her. It's odd for someone who's only been here a year. And I can't seem to get a straight answer out of anyone when I ask who her cousins in town are."

Bass nodded, setting the glass down and walking out from behind the desk. "I agree with you. And if our sources are correct, she may have more value than the immediate future may imply."

"Meaning?" Connor was intrigued.

Bass sat down in the corner of the sofa in front of the fire, the brightest light source in the room and only source of heat in this frigid climate. "Meaning," he said, running his hands through his hair in exhaustion, "she needs to be brought in. You need not know any more than that."

"It would be my pleasure," Conner said. "When do you want her?"

Bass pulled his crystal glass to his lips and paused, considering. "Tonight."

Anette sat wedged between two armed men in the front of a horse-drawn carriage. Her hands were bound at the wrist, her skin chilled where metal met skin. Silently she chastised herself for not leaving sooner. For even coming to Elk Lodge in the first place. She hadn't gone without a fight though. She'd fought well enough on her own, but against four men who each easily had at least fifty pounds on her, her fight was short-lived. Gingerly she felt at the place just below her right eye were a bruise was now starting to form. She tongued the place on her lip where it had split.

"Don't touch it, it will only hurt worse." Connor Bennet spoke from beside the wagon, riding his own horse.

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?" Anette retorted.

Conner chuckled. "Yours, so far as I'm concerned. Such an overreaction to a simple request for you to come with us. Makes me wonder what you've got to hide, Miss Louiselle." He paused. "Or, am I right in now calling you Miss Redcloud? That is, after all, your real name, isn't it?"

Anette shook her head, and looked up to the sky that was now turning lighter as the sun rose. She fought back tears that threatened to fall. "Go to hell."

"I think she's sweet on me, guys."

Anette pressed her lips together, and was silent the rest of the way into Sioux Falls. When they reached the outskirts of the camp, she tried avoiding the glances of the uniformed men who were just starting to get to the day's work. She had a feeling that her arrival had been expected, whether it was voluntary or involuntary. None of them looked surprised to see her walking towards the courthouse in manacles.

Conner took her by the arm and led her upstairs to Bass's quarters. He knocked and listened for permission to enter. When they were given the go-ahead, Connor pulled Anette into the same room in which Anette had met the general for the first time. When they were inside, Anette wrenched her arm away from Conner.

"You did your job, little dog, no need to overcompensate," Anette taunted.

Connor took Anette's chin in her hand and murmured close to her face, "you forget yourself, Redcloud. I can even out the damage done to your face."

"Enough." Monroe spoke from the opposite site of the room, having turned the corner of where his sleeping quarters were. He was tucking his shirt into his pants, and began buttoning his black coat.

Bass approached Anette, and regarded the bruise and split lip. He lifted his hand and touched the side of her face that held the bruise. Anette held the general's gaze.

"Was this really necessary, Conner?" Bass clenched his teeth and shot his son a glare.

"It was either we let her go, or we brought her like you asked."

Bass kept his gaze on Anette, "I'm sorry for the force that was used to bring you here. But I had to confirm for myself what my officers seem to think is true. You're Raymond Redcloud's sister, are you not?"

"You won't get what you want by taking me," Anette said, avoiding the question.

"And what is it that I want?" Bass was amused by this girl who had such spirit.

"My brother takes care of his people. That threatens you and your militia. You want him to stop his attacks on your militia. And I'm just doing you the favor of telling you how this is going to work. He won't stop."

Bass smiled a toothy grin. "You see, I think you're wrong. I think your brother would do just about anything to keep you from harm."

Anette smiled right back, ignoring the pain it caused her split lip, "Ah, but general, you see, I know more than you do."

"I assure you, Miss Redcloud, I know more than you think I do. And I think you'll find that I have a very compelling reason for you to help me in getting your Sioux brothers and sisters out of the way of my militia."

"Try me," Anette's glare was as cold as ice.

"You're a woman of many guises. School teacher. Respected member of the Sioux tribe. The wife of a very powerful man."

Anette's heart began to race. The blood ran out of her face. She said nothing.

"Your arrival in Elk Lodge a year ago would be right along the timeline of someone else very important going missing from Canada. Someone I'm sure is very missed." Bass knew he had her.

"You see, what you're going to do for me is, you're going to get your brother and his men to stand down, or else we're going to level them to the ground." Bass hardened his gaze. "We're here to stay, Anette, and the sooner you accept that, the better this will be for all involved."

"This land is ours, you know," Anette said, defeatedly.

"And it can continue to be. In a way. I just need you to cooperate, and for the Sioux to acknowledge that they are now under the domain of the New Monroe Republic."

Anette felt out of breath. She looked about the room, weighing her options. Return to a miserable life as the wife of a sociopath, or bend under the yoke of another political power that sought to assume sovereignty over her people's land. It was not her finest moment, but the fear of return to Montreal scared her to death.

"'In a way…'" Anette echoed the general's words, chuckling sadly, and shook her head, thinking. "I can't promise he will listen." Anette held the general's gaze. "But if I do this, you have to promise you won't send me back to _him_."

"So long as you hold up your end of the bargain, Anette, I will not send you anywhere."

Relief washed over Anette, and she let out an audible breath that she had no idea she had been holding.

"I know you must be tired, so I will have major Bennet show you to the room that will be yours until our business is concluded. I think also now that Anette is safely within the walls of this building, we can expect she will not manage escape." Bass turned his eyes onto his son. "I think the manacles are far from necessary at this point."

Conner, taking his cue, walked from where he was standing by the door, and used the key from his pocket to unlock Anette's manacles. Flexing her wrists, Anette looked at the ground as she was led from the general's rooms to her own, a mere two doors down. When she was inside her room, she found that it was small, but with amenities she had not expected for someone who was technically a prisoner. A claw-footed tub, a full sized bed, and her own barred window.

The door was closed and locked behind her, and as she sat on the bed that would be hers for who knew how long, she lamented that she was again being used as a political means to an end.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Crooked Gulch**

Chapter 6

"How did you know she was Boulard's wife?" Conner had just returned to his father's rooms, intruding on a meeting that was happening between the general and several other officers. Bass looked to his officers with a perturbed look.

"You'll have to excuse us. This meeting will have to wait until after noon." At that, they dismissed themselves and set about their different ways. Once they were gone, Conner repeated his question.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't." Bass marveled at how much his young son still had to learn. "But I had a good idea. The timeline worked out. All the sources from Canada said she was First Nations. The sources from the Plains Nation said she was Native American. A tribe that spreads throughout Canada and the Plains Nation is the Sioux. Our Anette fit the bill. She merely confirmed my suspicion. You really must pay more attention, Conner."

"And can you be certain that she can get what we need?" Conner asked.

"I can't be sure of anything, but she's the best shot we have right now."

"When do you want to start?" Conner was impatient. His desire to have all his father had and more drove him to impulsive moves that Bass would never have made himself.

"Tonight, I think," Bass said, rising from his desk, and making to leave. "Conner, you've got a lot to learn. Sometimes the best way to get something you want out of a woman is to let her come to the decision herself."

Anette spent the entire day locked in the room that was designated as "hers". She couldn't help but notice the irony in that. It wasn't so long ago that she had even bigger quarters that served as her jail cell. Just because the bars are gilded doesn't mean that it isn't a cage.

She was certain though that this was a better alternative than to go back to Boulard. This looked like a spa weekend in comparison to what life was like there. And she was certain of what awaited her if she did return. She knew that she wouldn't get away with running away more than a year ago unscathed.

About midday her stomach started to rumble. She banged on her door and hollered for someone to bring her something. "Prisoners have to eat too!" she yelled. She watched the shadows of someone's footsteps just outside her door, which she assumed to be a guard's. "Wouldn't want to abandon your post, would you? Nevermind me…"

At around four o'clock in the evening, she heard a key clanging around in the door, and it opened to reveal several women carrying pots of water. None of them spoke as they filled the claw-footed tub with a sufficient amount of water to take a bath. Baths were a luxury up in North Dakota, especially when far removed from such lavish luxury as the Boulard estate.

The last girl placed a pile of folded clothing at the foot of Anette's bed, and spoke before leaving. "The general wishes you to be ready in an hour."

"Ready for what?" Anette eyed them suspiciously.

"You're to eat with him." The girl spoke with slight elevation in her voice. When the girl had left, and the door was locked behind her, Anette had rolled her eyes. Some girls only cared about a handsome face. Anette wasn't stupid enough to make that mistake again.

As much as it pained her to comply with the wishes of the general she had branded as a pompous egomaniac, she found herself doing so to hold up her end of whatever bargain they had. She only hoped he was true to his word. She dressed herself in the black pants and white silk long sleeved shirt. Silk, Anette thought to herself. Where in the hell did he get his hands on this?

She finished dressing, and looked at herself in the mirror. Save for the bruise that was still gaining color, and the split lip, she didn't look half bad. She considered the silk blouse's sheer quality and sucked her teeth in disdain. It still wasn't the most based thing she'd ever done at the request of someone else, but the nerve of him bothered her. She'd had a whole year of being able to own herself completely, only to be managed yet again.

The sun was starting to descend, and she watched from her bed. She thought there about her predicament. She wondered if word had already spread that she was in General Monroe's custody. She wondered what Raymond's reaction would be once he found out. She hadn't really seen him much since her wedding day those years ago; she hoped that he would be outraged enough to demand her release. But she just didn't know anymore. The thought of that made her feel like, yet again, she was on her own.

As these thoughts filled her head, she very nearly fell asleep, but was awoken by the sound of her door being unlocked and opened. She turned back towards the door, and saw the general's son standing in the doorway. Her stomach filled with ice at the sight of him. She looked away as she scooted herself off the bed. Sardonically, she walked towards him with her wrists outstretched.

"You play a prison guard so well," she said, "Are you sure the life of an officer suits you?"

Connor's face betrayed nothing. He smirked, grabbing her arm, and said, "No need for manacles, Redcloud."

Anette tisked, adding, "Grown past beating up women, have we?" Anette was drawn out of her room, and they made their way down the hall towards their destination, which Anette assumed would be the same room she had always seen Monroe in.

"The night is still young," Connor remarked, adding nothing else.

Just as they approached the doorway, Connor placed his hand on the small of Anette's back. Anette flinched slightly at the contact, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction of an overreaction. "That blouse looks good on you," he said, his wolfish grin spreading across his face. "Just as I thought."

Anette sidestepped out from his touch. "Well take a good look, 'cause it's all you're gonna get." Connor's eyes widened at her statement, in a challenging sort of way. "I've been dressing myself for nearly thirty-two years, Major, I think I can manage next time."

"And deny me such simple pleasures? You wouldn't dare." Connor opened the door to the very large quarters in which Monroe no doubt was waiting.

Connor let go of Anette's arm as they entered the room. She scanned the room, looking for the general. She found him nowhere. His desk sat empty, as did the couch and armchairs around the fireplace.

"It appears I've been stood up, Major," Anette said, mockingly disappointed. "Guess you'll have to return the bird to her cage."

Connor pushed Anette slightly, indicating she walk further. "That door by the desk," he said, simply. "Through there."

Anette knew it was wishful thinking that her time with the general would be postponed. She sighed and walked to the edge of the room, further than she had gone before. She wringed her hands slightly as she made her way through the door. She willed herself to stop, wanting to not appear nervous.

On the left she saw a table big enough for eight people made for two. The room was large and open. On the other side of the room, partially obscured by rice paper room dividers, Anette caught the tail end of a large, four-poster king sized bed. Suddenly there was a pit in Anette's stomach as she comprehended where she was. She wondered just what the hell all of this was. Surely, he didn't think…

Before she could finish her thought, Anette's eyes found General Monroe, lounging in a large, tufted chair, one foot on an ottoman, the other on the ground. In his hands he held a book that looked like it had been read a hundred times. When he became aware of their presence, he looked up from his reading, and gazed at Anette. General Monroe paused, his mouth open ever so slightly. Anette could feel his eyes burning holes into her.

The feeling she had was not entirely uncomfortable. The realization of that unsettled her, but she set it aside as she interlaced her fingers and let her clasped hands rest before her, clearing her throat and waiting for the general to speak.

At this, Monroe closed the book, and set it on the table beside his chair. He stood, pulling his jacket straight as he walked towards his son, and the prisoner he was escorting, for lack of a better word. Monroe's face displayed a small smile as he neared Anette. He took her hand, and to her surprise, planted a small kiss on the back. Her skin tingled at the brief contact.

"Anette, you look stunning. And well rested, I hope?"

Anette spoke quickly to save her mouth from gaping like a fish. "If by stunning you mean freezing, thank you. Yes, for the most part."

"Wonderful." The general looked from Anette to his son. The two of them walked towards the doorway through which Anette had just been escorted. They spoke in hushed tones, leaving Anette standing there feeling oddly out of place. Anette turned and looked at the two of them. She caught something in Connor's eyes that didn't sit well with her—something akin to jealousy.

As Connor turned to leave, Anette realized this truly would be a dinner between the general and her alone. She dare not consider her feelings at the thought. Thankfully, the general spoke, filling the silence that was left in Connor's wake.

"Red or white?" The general made his way towards a small table beside the dining table. On it, Anette saw that there were two bottles, both unopened. Anette swallowed her fear, and walked towards the general. She stopped beside him, considering the two bottles in front of them.

"Are you going to dupe me into selling my people out by getting me drunk, general?" Anette was not going to back down to any challenge thrown her way. "Hoping to get some land signed away by getting the Indian drunk?"

Anette could see the amusement in the general's eyes.

"But, because I can't be bought easy, red I think."

"You know, Anette," Monroe said, "I think you're right."

She watched as the general opened the bottle of wine, and filled a decanter. She took the glass that Monroe had filled for her. She drank from it to fill the silence between them. It had been quite a while since she had had wine. Admittedly, being the prisoner wife of a king did have some plushy perks, one of which was the best wines available in Canada. She was never short on luxuries. She just had the psychological and physical terrors to deal with on top of them.

"I really wish he hadn't done that," Monroe said.

"Done what? Who?" Anette asked.

"My son. That…" The general touched his own lip.

"Oh," Anette subconsciously brought her hand to the cut. She sighed, and added with humor, "Sadly, not the worse I've ever sustained. This is nothing."

She saw the anger that flashed across the general's face. It was so brief that Anette thought she had imagined it. To busy himself, Monroe pulled a chair out of the table at the very end—one of the place settings that was already laid out. Anette took the well-intentioned hint, and sat.

"You're a fighter, I'll give you that. I can't imagine that you're eager to return to that, Anette," Anette heard the general's voice from behind her. He turned and set his own glass down, and pulled his own chair out. He sat, now on Anette's level.

"No, general, I'm not." Anette's tone was now dead serious. "Are you going to spare me that?"

"As much as I can, Anette," the general said, a flash of his serious and pragmatic side coming out in him. "But you have to be willing to pull your end of the bargain."

Anette drank briefly from her glass. "I just don't understand what that entails. Is this where you're going to enlighten me?"

Monroe nodded. "You're a smart woman, Anette. So you know what we're doing here in the Plains Nation. The Old Monroe Republic is over. Those lands have partially fallen into new hands, and the rest, well… the rest are a wasteland."

Anette held his gaze, intense as it was. It unsettled her how seriously he gazed at her, but she dare not break eye contact in this moment in which much was about to be asked of her. She merely drank more from her glass, listening.

"We're here to stay. And we need cooperation from your tribe. Your brother has been a thorn in our side, and we would much rather have that kind of manpower on our side than against it. Your brother has the loyalty of his tribe. He provides premium supplies for them. How he does that, I would like to know."

Anette nodded her head. "You do realize that it will be difficult to sway him, don't you?"

As Monroe opened his mouth to reply, a cart was being brought in through the door to the study. On the cart was what Anette assumed was their dinner. She was not wrong. After the plates full of venison and steamed vegetables were laid in front of them, and the help left, Monroe gave his reply. He was definitely a private man, trusting not even his hired hands to hear official Republic business.

"That's where I'd hoped you'd come in."

Anette sighed as the general began to cut away at the thin slices of back strap meat. "What choice do I have?"

Monroe continued eating, never looking up from his plate. "You don't."

Defeated, Anette began to realize that refusal would most definitely get her returned to Canada. As charming as General Monroe was, she knew deep down that his threats were not empty.

"General, I…" Anette began. "I don't know how much you know about my…" she bit her lip, loathe to use the word. "Husband."

In Monroe's face there was no hint of amusement. His expression was closer to reluctant acceptance. "I know a fair amount, but I am sure they lack the detail necessary to come close to accurate."

"Monroe, if you take what you know, given who you are, I guarantee you my brother knew more," Bass's heart quickened at the sound of Anette using his name. She'd previously stuck to calling him simply General. The wine was making her bolder.

Anette pushed with her fork at the deer meat that admittedly smelled amazing, yet her heart just wasn't in it at the moment. "General, my husband's reputation is well known. I daresay his name strikes fear into men's hearts. Your treatment of me has been cordial in comparison to his. And Raymond is a very idealistic man. He was able to let me stay in that godforsaken place with that sociopath without so much as a second thought. What's to say he'll listen to me now?"

To Anette's surprise, Monroe placed his hand on her knee. It was a shockingly tender gesture; one which she did not expect this ruthless general to offer. Her heart raced, but she did not flinch from his touch.

"That's over. But I do expect you to at least try. I hate to think what I'll have to do should you refuse. Can you do that?"

Anette's breath caught in her chest, but she managed to find her voice. "I can."

Anette found her appetite and joined Bass in eating. Soon, they had finished, and Bass was filling up her glass using the decanter between them. After they finished, Bass helped Anette out of her chair by sliding it back for her, and she sat next to the fireplace as the general began to build the wood up for the fire. He struck a match, and got a good flame going.

Anette set her wine down, and focused on the volume she had seen Monroe reading when Connor had brought her in. She ran her hand over the title and smiled. "I didn't take you for a Charles Dickens fan."

Bass kept his gaze on the fire, poking at it until he was satisfied the fire would keep. "Oliver Twist is a great novel. A good distraction from real life. Have you read it?"

Anette placed the book back on the table. "Yes," Anette returned to sipping at her wine, which dwindled on the lower side of full. She couldn't help the memories from flooding in. "One thing about keeping a bird caged is that they definitely need to be entertained." She shook her head. "I never wanted for good reading."

Anette stood to get closer to the fire. The sun had since gone down, and the room was drafty. Her thin blouse didn't help matters at all, and she closed her arms close to herself, and cradled her wine just below her lips. Bass stood and saw her arms drawn about her. He grabbed the glass that was nearly empty, and put it on the mantle. Anette watched what he was doing—he leaned over the tufted chair in which he'd sat earlier, and grabbed a small blanket that was resting over the back. He draped the knit blanket over Anette's shoulders from behind, and placed his large hands over her arms, attempting to help her warm up.

Anette was frozen, but it wasn't because of the temperature. She had no idea what in the world was happening. She had no idea why she wasn't running for the door, or turning around to push Monroe away. She just stood there.

"That shirt has my son's choice written all over it. Beautiful on you, but so damn impractical. My apologies." He rounded Anette so he was facing her again. He added, with a touch of humor, "I didn't raise him."

Anette chuckled slightly, and she drew the blanket closer to herself. "Why…" she started, looking first at the floor, gaining her courage, "I can't quite wrap my mind around this. Why are you being nice to me?"

Bass was standing inches from her. His sea blue eyes were burning into her hazel eyes. At that moment, Anette was sure all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Bass seemed to tower over her. His face was inches from hers. "Why are you letting me?" Anette's heart nearly beat out of her chest when these words fell from Bass's lips. Bass brought his hand to Anette's mouth and gently traced her bottom lip with the back of his index finger.

At that moment, loud footsteps began to echo in the room. "General, there's—" Anette could hear Connor's voice piercing the haze she was under. She shook her head, taking step back from Monroe. Monroe, on the other hand, maintained his dignity, and seemed unabashed by the situation in which he found himself.

"What is it?" There was no hint of amusement in Monroe's voice.

Connor pushed past the awkward moment in which they found themselves, and pressed on about his business. "Some of our troops have returned from a mission. There's news of Redcloud. There were casualties, and the Sioux are on the move."

"Anette, you'll have to excuse me," Monroe straightened his coat, and abruptly made his way towards the doorway where his son stood. "See that she's returned to her room, and there are two extra guards posted outside her door." At that, Monroe disappeared out the doorway without even a backwards glance.

At his father's cue, Connor hastened towards Anette, grabbing her forcefully by the arm, and nearly dragging her through Monroe's quarters, down the hallway back to the room in which they were keeping her. Without a word, she was pushed into her room, and the door behind her was locked.

In the low light of her room, and with the distant sounds of the camp scurrying in every direction, Anette sat at the edge of the bed, snapped out of the fog caused by the wine, and tried to make sense of what had just happened between herself and the general.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Anette mindlessly brought her fingers to her lips, replaying exactly what had transpired between herself and Monroe. The feeling of his finger tracing her bottom lip. The knowledge that she didn't stop him. The certainty of what would have happened had Connor not walked in at precisely the right (or wrong?) moment. The thing that unsettled her so was how uncertain she was that she would have stopped Monroe.

As all these thoughts began to coalesce, Anette squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment of her behavior. She did nothing to stop Monroe's shameless come-on. She was a prisoner, for god's sake, she should be repulsed by him. Using her like a pawn. So why, then, had she not moved away? She decided to chalk it up to her sordid past with men. A decade with Damien had quite possibly warped her perceptions of how men and women should interact.

The hubbub outside had since died down, and many of Monroe's men had left. In response to what action spurred by her brother, she had no idea. She worried for her brother's safety, and hoped that he had not done anything stupid. It would be hours before anything would change in the camp, leaving Anette to worry herself well into sleep.

It was well into the morning before Anette began to hear stirrings in the camp. She was still sleeping from sheer exhaustion, but immediately she snapped to attention, rushing to the window in her room. She stood on her toes to get a full view of everything that was happening—Sioux men, about six of them, were surrounded by armed militia men. Among them was her brother, Raymond.

Her heart dropped. He'd been caught. But it didn't look as if they were brought under the same conditions as herself. No one had their hands bound. As they walked out of her line of vision, she turned to the locked door, and ran towards it. She beat on it insistently, yelling out to the men posted just outside.

"So help me god, if one of you doesn't let me out and take me to the general!" She could hear the panic in her own voice, but she didn't care. "Open the goddamned door!" She kept banging on the door, pleading with them. It would be another ten minutes before the door was unlatched and opened. Standing there, she was not surprised to find Connor standing there.

Connor seemed disheveled, the first few buttons on his coat undone, curly black hair in a mess, and a slight sheen of sweat on his face, despite the cold late fall air. He looked Anette up and down, grit his teeth so his jaw flexed, and pointed to her bed. "Put your coat on." She looked down and remembered that she had fallen asleep in the sheer blouse given to her the night before. Quickly she grabbed the coat she came in, and threw it on in haste.

"Where is my brother?" Anette was being guided down the hallway, towards a stairwell.

"Outside." Connor was short with her. At the moment she didn't care to dissect the look he'd given her earlier or the lack of witty retorts.

She nearly ran down the stairs, but could only go as fast as the armed men around her would allow. When they reached their intended destination she was brought inside a tent, and saw her brother Raymond. He had changed much since she'd last seen him. His dark hair was shorter than normal, resting at just above his shoulders. He looked care worn, tired and thinner. He was sitting in a canvas folding chair, speaking with the Sioux men who'd accompanied him.

"Ray!" Anette stood there, tears in her eyes, barely able to comprehend the fact that her big brother was there. What that meant, she still did not know. She raced to him, and as he stood, he caught her in his arms. "Ray what are you doing here?"

Raymond let her out of his arms, and pulled back enough to see her. His hand rested on the side of her face, and he smiled sadly. He had not seen his sister since before she'd escaped the clutches of the Canadian king. In her year in Elk Lodge, he still had not come to see her. He wished to himself that they could have been reunited under different circumstances.

"I had to come see that you were ok. And it looks like the general here got my message loud and clear."

Anette looked over to the general, whom she had not noticed was watching their heartfelt reunion. Anette made eye contact with Monroe, and felt a burning sensation in her chest. She looked down, sure that her face was flushed.

"Your brother and I were about to speak concerning my militia's presence here in the Plains Nation. And of our expectations." None of Monroe's warm tone was present.

"Well, Monroe, you have us here," Raymond stepped out from behind his sister and walked towards Monroe, who was standing near a very basic table, with random papers strewn about on it. "We came with you, unarmed. Now talk. What do we have to do to get my sister back?"

"Well, I'm sure you've got some idea, but to speak plainly…" Monroe half sat on the table by himself, and crossed his arms. "The New Monroe Republic isn't going anywhere, Redcloud. But I learned long ago that you do more harm killing off the locals than you do trying to make allies. So I have a proposition for you."

Raymond looked around him at the other men dressed in black Monroe Republic uniforms. "Somehow I think I'm not going to like this."

"It's better than the alternatives." Bass's face displayed no trace of amusement. "You and your tribe stop your attacks on my militia. You begin doing trade with us."

"That sounds like an awfully one-sided arrangement." Raymond crossed his arms.

"Yeah, what's in it for us?" Another one of Raymond's men spoke up. Anette recognized him. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach when she realized he was her cousin. She was sure she hadn't seen him since before she was sixteen. But this wasn't the time for self-pity.

"I thought you might say that." Monroe wagged his index finger in the air. "I think we're all aware of the situation as it stands with Canada."

"Why don't you enlighten us?" Raymond was not willing to give up anything that Monroe didn't know already.

In Monroe's eyes, Anette could see no hint of amusement. She thought maybe he might lose his cool, but he kept it together. Monroe did not strike Anette as the type of person who liked playing games.

"Your agreement with Boulard was not reached in a positive way. We have the evidence of that with us now," Monroe nodded his head in Anette's direction. "What I propose is exclusive trade with the New Monroe Republic. Frankly, I've heard things about you Sioux, and I wonder myself how you get some of the things that are on your market…"

Anette swallowed, trying not to give away anything. Surely, he didn't know about the Black Hills…

"I propose that for a period of six months with us, as a sign of good faith, dear Anette here will stay in camp as a… sort of ambassador to your cause. She will stay here for the duration of those six months, during which time, you will cease trade with all Canadian entities. At the end of this six-month period, should your trade with Canada truly cease, our ambassador here will be free to go, and will be under the protection of the New Monroe Republic."

Raymond sucked his teeth, losing what little patience he had left. "And do you not think Boulard would lose his mind to learn that first, you have his wife, whom he has been looking for for nearly a year? And once his major supplier has mysteriously stopped doing trade with his forces, won't he be out for retribution?"

Monroe's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Yes, I had figured that. To that I can say, I know that within the Kingdom of Canada, the Sioux have not exactly had a pleasant run, have they? Wouldn't you like to regain your lands in Canada?" He paused, taking Raymond's silence as agreement.

"You let me worry about those repercussions. Boulard will most likely retaliate, and should he do so, I may call upon you and your troops to fight against Canada. But you will maintain an autonomy under the Republic that you never had under Canada. Plus, dear Anette here doesn't get shipped off to the sadist for what is sure to be a short period of time, given what I hear about his anger issues." He paused. "I'll give you all some time to talk it over. But then you go relay this to your tribe, and Anette stays. Good day, Redcloud."

At that, Monroe and his men turned and left. Through the flap in the tent, Anette could see that it was still surrounded with guards, some of whom were no doubt charged with the task of returning her to her room.

"Anette, are you alright?" Raymond gestured to her split lip and bruise that had formed on her eye.

Anette nodded, "Yes. It's not the worst I've received. I just wouldn't go without a fight is all. Surprisingly, they seem to be treating me alright. Raymond, I… Please, take his offer. If you can call it that. I can't go back there."

"I know." Raymond gritted his teeth. "The problem is, getting he rest of the Sioux nation to agree to it. Our father's actions following the blackout, what he did for the tribe… that was enough to garner the support of the tribe the first time around. When you were sent to him…"

Anette's face flushed, and she nodded.

"But I don't know if the nation will be willing to trade one madman for another. Anette, he may seem gentlemanly right now, but he's just like Boulard. From what I've heard of what the first Monroe Republic was like. I don't trust it."

"I know, Ray, but…" Anette shook her head. "Can it truly be worse than the yoke of Canada? The taxes, the disappearances… It just doesn't seem worth it anymore. It worked for a few years, sure, but he's nuts. Ray, what he's doing to the people of Canada, it's sick. I'll take a egomaniac over a sadist any day."

One of Redcloud's men spoke up, "I agree, Ray. Let's take it back to the tribe and see what they say. We won't proceed unless we get majority approval."

Ray sighed. "Well, I guess that's what we'll do. Anette, are you okay to stay here for the six months? We won't leave you here unless you can promise us you're ok with it. We won't leave you, like last time…"

Anette steeled herself. "It's fine, Ray. I'm fine. You can leave me here."

And at that, they parted ways, giving each other a much needed hug goodbye. Anette was quickly carted away by two armed guards, and the Redcloud entourage was escorted out of camp. The pit in Anette's stomach grew larger. She was sick to think that the feeling in her stomach was not only made up of fear, but of some kind of girlish anticipation. She shook her head as she was brought back into the building containing her room and Monroe's office. "What the hell is wrong with me?" She asked herself in quiet desperation once she was safely behind the locked door of her own room.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Anette laid on her bed, eyes wide open, picking at the bread that had been left for her on a nearby table. Only half of it actually made it to her stomach, along with a small brick of cheese and an apple, but still she fixated on it. In her mind, she replayed many thoughts. She wondered if the Sioux would go along with the agreement. She had no reason to believe that they were still that loyal to the Redcloud family. She secretly hoped that their awful treatment within the borders of Canada was enough to inspire them to go along with what Monroe proposed.

She also thought about the Black Hills. They held religious significance for the Sioux, but during the first year of the blackout, the Sioux had discovered something. In the collapse of the government, surprisingly not a single government entity had made it to the underground hoard of supplies left there. The Sioux had been sitting on a goldmine of supplies for these many years, and still the supplies had not run out. This was the secret of their trade.

This carefully guarded secret was what Anette knew Monroe should never get his hands on, no matter how charming he could be. Ray and his fighters would have to be extra careful in this time, lest they become expendable after the Republic's discovery of this trove of supplies. Anette knew he was suspicious because of the comments about how the Sioux were able to be the go-to people for supplies in the Plains Nation and that small portion of Canada.

Because of that, Anette decided in the back of her mind that she needed to keep Monroe at a distance, and be wary of his motivations. The arrangement did seem too good to be true.

Anette set the bread she'd picked at on the plate on her table. Unable to stand being cooped up in her room any longer, she straightened her clothes and approached her door, knocking from the inside to get the attentions of a guard.

After a moment, the door opened, revealing a tired-looking guard. No doubt he'd been tasked to be at the door for excessive hours. He waited for her to say something.

"Am I going to be kept in here all day, or am I going to eventually be trusted enough that you don't have to lock me in? I'm dying in here. Where's the general?"

"I can fetch Major Bennett, and you can address all your concerns to him," the guard would give away no hint of the general's business.

"No, god, please don't send him down here," Anette begged, a little defeated. At that, the guard began closing the door, forcing Anette to retreat, or get herself smashed in a door. The door slammed, and there were clicks of the door being locked again.

Moments later, the door was again unlocked. Anette seated herself on her bed, hoping that the face of the general's son would not be there to greet her. And yet, again, disappointment as the dark, curly-haired young man made his way into the room, closing the door behind him. There was venom in his gaze as he took Anette in, sitting on the bed.

"What was so important that I needed to be taken away from my work, then?"

Anette threw just as much negativity back at him, "So sorry for the inconvenience. It's only that I'm sick of being cooped up in here with nothing to do. I'm not feeling very much like an ambassador. More like a prisoner. And I don't think that exactly fit the description that was given to me this morning."

"Needing some entertainment then?" Connor approached Anette, and was almost knee-to-knee with her, standing in front of her as she sat. She fidgeted unconsciously. "Seems to me like you had plenty of entertainment last night."

Anette frowned, her face no doubt turning scarlet. "Jealous, are we?" Anette attempted to jump down off the bed, and get back some of the space she was slowly losing. After standing, Anette attempted to sidestep Connor, but was stopped. His hand gripped her upper arm tightly, keeping her in place.

"Getting into bed with him isn't going to get you anything," Connor warned. "If you think you can bat those big doe eyes at him and he's just going to let you go, you're mistaken."

Anette had enough. She didn't care of the repercussions—she raised a hand and slapped the young Major across the face. "So you're in charge of who's in bed with him, huh? I had no idea that was in your job description, _Major_." Anette's heart raced, and her breath quickened. "I don't take kindly to being insulted like that."

Connor brought a hand up to his face, rubbing the still tingling place where he was sure there would be a handprint soon enough. He smirked, and grabbed her face with his free hand.

"Just as I thought," he said. Anette was blindsided as Connor brought his mouth up to hers, and kissed her aggressively. Anette pushed him away, and at that, Connor let her go. "It's not going to work with him. Just letting you know."

Unable to speak, or to think, Anette stood there, heart pounding as the general's son turned on his heels and let himself out of the room. In his absence, Anette fumed, angry at herself for even attempting to flag a guard to complain about her situation.

_The dynamic between the general and his son is warped, for sure_, Anette thought. Anette was repulsed by Connor's actions, but knew exactly what drove them. It was jealousy. Pure and simple. She may only have had so much experience with men, but she knew jealousy when she saw it. And wasn't it just perfect that she was caught in the middle of it?

By evening, Anette found herself yet again being escorted by armed guards down to Monroe's chambers yet again. She was starting to grow tired of feeling like she was being shuffled around for the general's amusement. Her interaction with Major Bennett earlier in the evening had only exacerbated that feeling.

By the time she was spirited away to the general's study, none of her previous anger had diminished. When she saw him enter the room, she couldn't find words to express what she was feeling. She sat, arms and legs crossed, in the very corner of the large leather couch by the fireplace.

Bass disappeared around a corner, and reemerged moments later, wearing far less formal clothing—this time a grey knit sweater and black pants. It was such a stark difference from what Anette was used to seeing him in, she had to will herself to close her mouth.

Bass finally broke the silence between the two of them, as he sat beside her, carrying two full wine glasses. "So why don't you tell me what happened earlier today?" He held the glass of wine in front of her, waiting for her to take it. She considered him first, then the wine glass, and clenched her jaw as she took the obvious token of hospitality. Still, she held it, not daring to drink from it just yet.

"What ever could you mean, general?" Anette asked, deflated, half playing coy, and half just completely tired of thinking about it.

"I was told there was a little bit of a tiff between you and my son today, and I was hoping to hear what happened from you. I'd rather not rely on the testimony of guards not fully present during the incident."

Anette picked at a seam on her black pants, and breathed a small sigh. "It's nothing I can't handle. I've been subjected to worse."

"You seem to say that a lot, which I admittedly don't like hearing," Bass observed. "Don't downplay anything for me. By your standards, I'm absolutely sure you've experienced worse. Yet, still you skirt the issue. Please do not make excuses for Connor."

Anette shook her head, and she drank deeply from her wine glass. Relaying what happened to the general was embarrassing. And, she thought, it only served to add fuel to what ever resentful fire existed between father and son. Still though, she wanted a relative amount of autonomy while she was to be there in the fort, so she played into whatever strange fascination he had.

"Your son assured me that sleeping with you wouldn't get you to release me any sooner." Anette let those words sink in, meaning for them to carry weight. The elephant that had taken up so much room last night finally made its return.

"And?" he asked. Anette could not detect much emotion in Monroe's expression. Still, she continued.

She chuckled slightly to herself, looking up at the ceiling, noticing for the first time that the ceiling had an intricate design of carved stone. She spoke, still gazing up. "And then he kissed me. Rather forcefully. But you already knew that, probably."

Silence between them again. Anette spoke, "Look, I don't know what there is between you and your son. Some kind of weird competition thing. And I don't know how telling you any of this is going to accomplish anything."

"My son has resentment towards me, it's true," Monroe said. "He feels I owe him something. And I do. That has nothing to do with you though, and I'm truly sorry for his actions. And I don't want anything to happen to you here that might sour the deal with the Sioux."

Anette finally made eye contact with Bass. There, seated before her was someone who looked hardly like a general at all. There he was, tousled blond curls and sea blue eyes. His expressions nearly always struck a kind of fear into her, but it wasn't a bad kind of fear. More like a fear for what a face like that could make her do. God, and was she ever a sucker for a pretty face.

"I appreciate what you're saying," Anette started. "But if it's all the same, I'd rather you stop treating me like a prisoner than apologize for the actions of someone else."

"Until your brother returns with word of what your people have decided, I'm afraid that a certain level of security is in order."

"Monroe, I was prisoner in my own home for years, so you understand my personal loathing of being locked in a single room and brought out once a day for your entertainment."

"Anette, I had hoped that while you were here you'd feel as if you are being hosted, not a hostage. You'll forgive me if my being cautious comes across as being in some way a jailer. For the time being, you may have access to the entire fort, including this room for its library, and when you wish to go outside, you will be escorted by guards. This is what I can allow, given our circumstances. Is that sufficient?"

"_Allow_," Anette repeated, amused. "I guess I have to take what I can get, don't I?"

"You know, I…" Anette stood, taking another drink from her glass. She simply couldn't stay seated any longer. The mounting tension between them was more than she could handle. "I think there's something seriously wrong with me."

Bass watched her walk towards the bookcase at the other end of the room. He stayed seated. "How ever do you mean?"

Anette paused at a specific volume, finger atop it, tilting it up and down, and finally removing it to study its cover. "Captivity is a hell of a thing, Monroe." She set her glass down next to one of the volumes. She spoke to the books, her back to the man to whom she was speaking.

"You can spend years as someone else's psychological and physical prisoner, and eventually you get used to the bars. Given enough room and eventual freedom, there's still a small part of you that sort of misses them. A part that you want to bury deep down, but you're always still aware of it. And no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to kill it."

Bass had set his own glass down, and rose to approach Anette at the bookcase. She was vaguely aware that he was standing inches behind her. She felt his fingers on her hand as he took the book out of her hands, and set it back on the shelf. She turned to face Monroe, looking up at him.

"I should scratch and claw and fight my way out of here, but I can't. Why can't I?" Anette searched his eyes for an answer.

"I don't know," his voice unsettled Anette. "But I hope you won't."

With that, Bass finally was able to close the distance between them, putting one hand at her waist, and the other at the back of her neck. Anette melted into his touch, and leaned in to kiss Monroe. Snaking her arms around his neck, Anette gave into what ever base desires she had, half loathing herself for what she was doing, half trying to quiet that part of her that said stop.

Bass opened her mouth with a small nudge and there their tongues met. Anette thought her heart would beat straight out of her chest. She didn't know how long it was that they were like that, but eventually she found herself being picked up by Bass, both of his hands under her arms.

Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on for the few feet it took to get them from the bookcase back to the couch. There he laid her down on her back, and lowered himself comfortably between her legs and situated his weight so she could still breathe. Holding himself partially up with one arm, and keeping his other hand firmly on her waist, Bass continued kissing the dark-haired girl until she broke the kiss herself.

Out of breath, Anette's head was swimming. Monroe took this moment to lay kisses along her neck and on her collarbone. Anette let out a small sigh as he reached a spot that made her toes curl. Anette's hand found its way into his curly hair, and the other rested on the side of his neck as his mouth descended upon hers yet again.

Bass's free hand somehow found its way into Anette's henley shirt, feeling the smooth skin on her stomach. Just as Bass's fingers found the bottom of her breasts, Anette snapped out of whatever daze she was in.

"Wait," Anette said, breathlessly. She grabbed Bass's arm at the elbow, and stopped his progression. Bass reluctantly stopped, his hand still resting below her breasts, tickling her skin with the side of his thumb. "Wait?" he asked her, devouring her with just a look.

"Just…" Anette started, still lightly scratching Bass's scalp at the top of his neck. "Hold up a minute. I just need to know this isn't happening because of the position you're in. And the position I'm in."

Bass moved his hips against Anette's slightly, making her aware of the erection he already had. "Seems to be a pretty good position to me."

Anette let out a small moan, but did not give in. "Not helping." Anette held his gaze. "I need to know that we're doing this for the right reasons, and not because you have power over me. I don't see that happening tonight."

Bass sighed, and removed his hand from her shirt. Bass sweetly planted a few kisses on Anette's collarbone, and sat up, pulling Anette with him.

"You have my word that whenever you say stop, I will comply. And if this happens, it will be because you're sure."

Anette smiled, and looked down at Bass's hands that were holding hers. She brought one hand to her ear and tucked her long, brown hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry…" she started, but Bass shushed her.

"Don't apologize for this," Bass said. "I can't blame you. And I won't push you."

Anette sighed, and looked about the room, awkwardly. "So, I suppose I should go back to my room if we're not going to…"

"No one says you have to go. Just because I'm not sleeping with you it doesn't mean I don't want you here."

And stay she did. Anette stayed on the couch through the whole evening, drinking with Bass, talking, and eventually placing her head in his lap and nearly dozing off. Before she was truly asleep, Bass was able to coax her into his arms, and he carried her to his oversized bed in the next room. Too tired to protest to sleeping in Bass's bed with him, Anette melted into the many covers that were atop his bed. In the moonlight coming through the bedroom window, Anette just made out Bass removing his sweater and pants. She willed herself to look away, but still couldn't.

Clad only in his underwear, Bass slid into the sheets beside Anette, and lightly kissed her forehead before falling asleep himself. Just as sleep was about to overtake her, Anette couldn't help but think of how confused she was. This man was a walking contradiction. She'd been given no indication that she should truly fear him, but his reputation still clung to the back of her thoughts. She had this sinking feeling that she was only being given part of the picture that was Sebastian Monroe. But, for the time being, under the slight haze of the wine, she gave up wondering what the evening meant, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Just before sunrise, Bass eased out of his bed and lit a fire in the fireplace. Checking back to his bed, he saw that Anette still lay there deep in sleep. After lighting the fire to keep Anette warm in the wee hours of the morning, Bass dressed himself in his black uniform, complete with a sidearm at his belt. He approached the bed and stopped just before he reached Anette. Very carefully, Bass moved her hair from off her face, and admired what a beauty she was.

As she began to stir, Bass snuck out of the room, and out into the hallway. There, he set himself about his mission for the morning, and came into a tent just outside the fort. There, waiting for him was a cup of coffee, and a fresh stack of papers to sift through.

About an hour after sunrise, more and more of his soldiers came and went from the tent, giving status updates and getting orders for the day. But with each soldier, Bass grew more and more impatient as one in particular did not show. Finally, just as his patience had run out, his son strode into the tent, attempting to hide the contempt on his face.

"General," Connor greeted his father, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Out," Bass barked at the other officers who had strode into the tent along with Connor. Connor knew the order was not meant for him. He took a long drag of the coffee and set it down. The general rose from his chair, and stopped directly in front of his son.

"What the hell was that yesterday, Connor?"

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, general," Connor sassed.

"Damn it, Connor, you can't do shit like that with this one!" Bass's eyes were fiery with anger.

Connor's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, what, now you _care_ about her? Is that it? You're acting like an idiot over a piece of ass, and sure enough the men are going to take note."

Bass rolled his eyes, and turned away from his son. He couldn't believe how stupid he was. "Oh my god, _you know who she is_. Who she was married to when she was just a kid. And do you think that if she's treated the same way here by the Republic, it isn't going to get back to Redcloud? What's that going to do for us, for future trade?"

Connor was silent. "So what is going to happen when Redcloud finds out she's sleeping in your bed?" Bass shot him a warning glance. "Yeah, wasn't in her bed this morning."

"Jesus, Connor, it's not the same thing." Bass reached Connor again, this time inches from his face. "What I'm doing with her, and what you did are totally different things. One hurts our chances with the Sioux, and the other might help."

Connor's jaw flexed as his gritted his teeth. "And how do you think it's going to help, taking up a Sioux leader's sister as a bedmate?"

"You know, sometimes I have to remind myself just how young you really are, Connor. You clearly do not understand what can happen when you've got a woman falling for you, rather than being afraid of you. That Canadian nutbag isn't able to call himself a king for no reason. Canada has what it has because of the Sioux. And if this republic, the republic you are going to be in control of one day, has any hope of becoming successful, this is the way we do it."

"And when she finds out you're playing her?" Connor grabbed his coffee again.

"She's not going to find out anything of the sort. If I have to marry her to keep her here, I will. But I swear to christ, Connor, if you fuck this up, you _will_ be sorry you ever met me. Have I made myself clear?"

Connor downed the rest of his coffee, and nearly slammed the cup down on the wooden table. "Abundantly."

* * *

Anette sighed and turned over in Bass's large bed, and slowly opened her eyes. It was still early morning, and she could just make out the sounds of the stirring camp outside the window. She sat up, smoothing her hair down, and looking around her. The place in bed beside her was empty, and there was a good-sized fire going. _He must have lit that this morning…_

Anette turned and let her feet dangle off the bed, and she began looking for her boots. Because everyone in camp was up, there was probably no chance of sneaking out unseen. On her way out, she spotted a bowl of fruit and grabbed the apple on top of the pile. As she snuck out of Monroe's chambers, she mindlessly twisted the apple away from its stem, and looked around the hallway. Miraculously, she made it to her own room without encountering anyone else. She was pleased to find, though, that when she did reach her room that no guards were posted outside her room. She was sure they lined the perimeter of the fort, but this was worlds better than it had been the past few days. She smiled to herself as she silently thanked Bass for keeping his word.

After washing up, Anette spent the day reading in Monroe's study, and went outside for a short walk, although escorted by two men with guns. In all, it was a pleasant day. She would have been lying if she'd said she didn't secretly hope she'd run into Monroe outside amongst the tents. But still, no sight of him all day. Anette didn't start to think much of it until the sun had set, and Monroe still had not called on her. She was no longer a prisoner in a room, so she very well could have simply come to his quarters, but part of her seriously thought that he wouldn't take kindly to that.

Even still, she found herself watching the sky turn from light blue, to dusky purple, to black, and still she had no sign of him. Anette chastised herself for caring whether or not Monroe called on her, or visited her room himself. She found herself pacing in her own room, going over details of the day and the night before. Had she said something to piss him off? Did turning him down truly make him angry enough to ignore her all day? Why hadn't he woken her up to say goodbye this morning? A million questions, all buzzing in her head, and she couldn't quiet them. So, Anette decided that there was nothing wrong with calling on him of her own accord.

Anette opened her door, and left, walking down the hallway towards the general's quarters. Once she approached the doorway, she heard faint voices within. The sentries posted outside the room did not stop her when she approached the door, so she pushed her luck even further, and pushed the door open.

Anette simply wasn't prepared for what she would find inside Monroe's office. On the leather couch, the very same couch that Anette had nearly lost herself on the night before, sat a young woman, slender, with long straw-colored hair and big blue eyes. Beside her sat Monroe, the top four buttons on his jacket undone, in a lounging position. Ice filled Anette's stomach, her mind racing to a million places. On the coffee table in front of the couch there was a half-empty bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Anette forced her gaping mouth closed, and she cleared her throat.

"Anette," Bass looked up at the doorway where the noise had come from. Bass looked as if he had his hand caught in a cookie jar, or so Anette thought. He immediately knew what her assumptions would be. Still, he maintained his cool, and introduced the blonde beside him. "Anette, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is the woman I was telling you about."

"Hi there," the blonde, apparently named Charlie, spoke to Anette from across the room. She remained seated. On her face Anette found amusement, which did not help what conclusions she was jumping to.

Anette still tried to save face, smiling in a forced way. "Hi," she paused. "I think I've interrupted something, so I'll just help myself out. It was nice to meet you." Quickly, and without waiting for a reply, Anette turned and walked swiftly down the hallway towards the stairwell, making her way down to the first floor. As she burst out the front of the fort, she called for the two guards that were swiftly trying to catch up with the girl they were charged with keeping on camp.

"Keep up," she called, walking for one of the many fires that were lit about the camp. Not wanting to cause either of the guards a heart attack, she sat down on a log near to one of the fires, next to a soldier she'd never seen before. The others who surrounded the fire had bewildered looks on their faces, looking from Anette to their armed comrades. Here in front of them was the Sioux prisoner they'd no doubt already heard tales about. Anette let the looks fall off her like water from a duck's back.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, not wishing for an actual reply. She was met with silence from the troops. And surely enough, as if one of them picked up on her distress, one soldier broke the ice by passing Anette a metal flask without a word. She looked up at him appreciatively, and drank from the flask, grimacing at the acrid taste. She hoped that none of them had seen her hands shake as she did so.


	10. Chapter 10

Anette stared into the dying flames of the campfire. She'd had enough of the soldier's flask to get her slightly buzzed. When offered more, Anette turned it down. She was never one for drinking away her problems.

She knew that she was probably being irrational, and quite possibly childish. She couldn't help but think about her marriage to Damien. He was good to her for a few years. She had fallen for him. But after a few years, his true colors showed. She tried to block out the very vivid memory of the first time Damien had hit her.

A cook in the estate had befriended Anette, and taught her how to make a soufflé. Unbeknownst to Anette, that young cook had gone around the kitchens bragging of the lewd things he had done with Boulard's wife. When Boulard heard of this, regardless of the cook's eventual confession that none of it was true, he made sure Anette was aware that making friends with male staff was completely unacceptable.

After the young man was brought in front of Anette, beaten and stabbed through the heart, Damien established dominance over his wife by giving her a few backhanded blows. Later that evening, with stains of blood still showing on the carpet, Damien had taken his wife for the first time in anger. And that was the end of the fairytale that Anette had been living for two years.

For two years, she had been completely in love with her husband. He was charming, affectionate. After his true nature showed, he continued to manipulate Anette by bringing her down, and then raising her back up with affection and sweet words. After years of this, Anette was repulsed by all contact with him. Intimacy was something she dealt with, reluctantly.

She had been turned from a vibrant young girl, in love with her husband, into a meek woman afraid to even talk to the scullery maids.

And here she was, very nearly giving herself over to another man. She thought vaguely of how she missed true intimacy. She had not had that for years. Maybe that was why she'd very nearly given into Monroe the night before.

_What does that say about me, then?_ She thought to herself._ Is it truly that easy for him? Am I such an easy target?_

She couldn't honestly say whether or not Monroe's affections were true, or if they were a rouse. Seeing him there with another woman had ignited a kind of jealousy in her that she was not used to. She felt stupid for starting to trust in a man she hardly knew.

They weren't doing anything particularly bad. Just sharing a drink. Deep down, Anette knew that her ego was bruised, and that was it. But still, she let herself wallow, and she let herself be angry at Monroe.

She had put off making her inevitable return to her room. She had no desire to see Monroe's face at the moment. She would have stayed out there by the fire had she actually dressed for a night under the stars. But, as luck would have it, she hadn't, and gave in, returning to her room, bidding a meek farewell to the soldiers surrounding the fire.

As she entered the fort, the armed guards let her into the building unescorted. She quickly made a beeline for her own room, praying she wouldn't run into Monroe on the way. Sure enough, as she opened the door to her room, lit only by a small fire, she saw a figure clad in black facing the window.

The curly haired man turned to face Anette as she finally decided to close her door. Anette could only stand to make eye contact with him for a moment before she turned to pour water out of a pitcher and into a bowl to wash her face. She said nothing.

"Anette," Bass started, approaching her slowly, "I don't know what you think you saw, but Charlie's a friend. She came into camp unexpectedly today. I didn't have time to say anything to you."

Anette set the pitcher down abruptly, willing herself to speak. "Oh, I'm sure she's just a friend, general. Believe me, I know plenty about the repercussions of making ill-informed assumptions."

"Then what is this about?" Monroe placed his hand on the small of her back. Anette was still staring at the bowl of water.

"It's about me. I'm such a fool," she said. Finally, she turned on Monroe, looking him in the eyes. "For years I have gone without an ounce of affection that didn't come with a healthy dose of fear or manipulation involved. And in the first time in years, I found myself losing control. I did that once when I was a kid. And that played out really well for me, didn't it?" Anette assessed the sympathetic look on Bass's face. "This could all just be some game to you."

"Well, you said it yourself." Bass spoke lightly, a small chuckle behind his words. "You're a fool—If you think that my interest in you is purely pragmatic."

"I'm just no good at this," she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I don't trust it."

Bass came one step closer, and placed a hand gently below her ear, lightly running his thumb along her jawbone. "Then just trust me."

"That's a tall order, coming from the man who's technically keeping me as a hostage." Anette stood there, frozen.

Bass closed the final distance between them, and leaned down, his hand still cradling Anette's head. His lips lingered close to hers, and he spoke. "I know." Anette placed her hands on either side of Monroe's waist, and grabbed his jacket. He took this as a sign, and kissed Anette deeply.

What seemed like an hour passed between them. Anette and Bass had eventually found the corner of her bed, and he had lifted her onto it so she was sitting at the edge, and he was standing between her legs. With each passing moment she felt more and more undone. She surprised even herself when she found that she'd elicited small whimpers and moans. This seemed to fuel Bass's hunger for her.

Despite her fervor for Monroe, Anette couldn't help but feel the pull of sleep tugging at her. The bit of whisky she'd shared with the soldier outside had caught up with her. Bass seemed in tune with her body and mannerisms, and he pulled back reluctantly.

"Getting tired of me already?" He asked teasingly.

Anette breathed a large sigh, and ran her fingers through Bass's curls at the back of his neck. "Shared a drink outside with one of your troops. It's just that I never had a head for liquor."

"Ah," Bass snaked his arms around the small of her back, and kissed at her neck. "I still have a few matters yet to attend to, even given the time. I suppose I should let you sleep."

Anette wrapped her legs around Bass's waist, and held onto the lapels of his uniform. "Can't you crawl into bed with me? Do you have to?"

Monroe licked his lips and looked Anette over once. He smirked. "I'll be quick." With that, Bass gave Anette a kiss that she felt deep down in her stomach, and turned on his heels and left Anette alone.

Bass hastened to his own quarters, hoping to not be gone long. He set about his business, and approached the mantle above the fireplace. It had a hidden compartment, which he had discovered a few weeks after taking over the building as his own personal headquarters in the Plains Nation. He pressed gently on the compartment, and it opened to his touch. He had found some old photographs and a few letters that dated to the First World War. Tonight, he was replacing them with something of far greater value. In his hands, Bass held a silver pendant on a black cord.

The circular symbol on its front was not lit up, but Bass knew that it would soon enough


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Anette ached in Bass's absence. She could feel blood rushing to all parts of her body. Her heart hadn't quite slowed down yet. She decided that she needed to just lay down and recover, so she began to get ready to crawl under her sheets. Her clothes were quickly shed and she found herself in only her panties. As she lowered them she discovered that her encounter with Bass had left them wet. At this discovery, Anette squeezed her eyes shut, and stepped out of them gingerly. In the cold evening temperatures, even with the fire burning, Anette quickly jumped into her bed to keep warm.

The fire crackled and snapped, and eventually she stopped shivering. In her mind, Anette replayed her heady moments with Bass. Mindlessly, her hand made its way between her legs, where she found that she was still wet. In Bass's absence, she found that she needed it, she needed to feel pleasure, even if it wasn't at his hands. She lost herself completely in that pleasure, and almost immediately after she came, she fell asleep.

Just as soon as she had dozed off, Bass slipped into Anette's room. He set his eyes on the sleeping woman in front of him, and, seeing the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, set about taking off his own. Anette still slept as he did this, and he eased himself into bed, nothing coming between his skin and the sheets. Bass inched closer to Anette until he was resting slightly against her exposed back.

He brought his hand to her hip, and felt her warm skin under his own cool hands. Anette's eyes opened, and her heart rate picked up at the feeling of Bass's hand on her hip.

"I was starting to wonder if you'd actually come back," Anette said, moving her hips slightly, feeling Bass, hard against her.

"And leave you alone in this bed?" Bass took his hand from Anette's hip and moved it down between her legs, from behind her. He traced her skin from her inner thigh up to her wetness. He smiled into the back of her neck. "This is nice. I just got here…"

Anette stifled a moan, feeling Bass's fingers caressing her sensitive skin, slipping between her folds. "That was from before. I was still wet when you left. I guess I haven't calmed down since."

Bass brought his hand up from between Anette's thighs, and pulled her hair away from her neck, exposing her skin. He laid a hard kiss on the back of her neck. Bass had found Anette's weak spot, and her toes curled involuntarily. "Oh god," she said, "please don't stop."

Bass smiled mischievously. "That's right," he said. "I haven't been able to finish what I started."

Anette twisted around to face Bass. "Until now," she said. She held Bass's gaze. "You sure?" he asked, letting his hand rest on her bare stomach.

"Yeah," Anette said, after searching Bass's face. She still wasn't sure about him. Something was pulling at her, telling her to say no, but in that moment she chose to listen to her body rather than her mind. She had not felt real pleasure for so long, she didn't care what would come after.

Bass pushed himself up with his arms, and lowered back again, this time between Anette's legs, resting slightly on her stomach. Bass kissed Anette passionately, and with urgency. Anette rocked her hips, hoping to feel Bass against her. Bass could sense what she wanted, and positioned himself just so. One thrust, and he would be inside her.

Each time Anette moved her hips, hoping to coax Bass inside her, he would pull back slightly. Then he would move his just enough to tease her into thinking he was about to enter. Anette raked her nails across his back lightly. She spoke softly. "Don't make me beg for it."

Bass smiled and complied with her request. Slowly he pushed forward, inching inside Anette gently. Once he was completely inside her, and could go no further, he stopped, and let her relax around him. Bass pulled his head back and gazed into Anette's honey-colored eyes. Anette moved her hips to let Bass know she was ready. After this sign, Bass moved his hips, and Anette followed suit.

Anette was so enraptured, and lost in Bass that she wasn't sure how long they were intertwined. Anette heard the noises she was making as if she were a far off observer. Each noise she made seemed to add fuel to whatever fire burned inside Bass. As Bass pushed her closer to coming, she said his name. "Bass, don't stop," she instructed, as he had hit the perfect spot. She came soon after.

She came another two times before Bass started to get close to coming himself. Bass's breath caught in his chest, and he buried his head in the crook of where Anette's neck met her shoulder. He shuddered slightly, and began to come. Anette felt him fill her, and marveled at how wonderful it felt. After the initial waves had passed, and Bass caught his breath, he stayed inside Anette.

There, comfortably wedged between her thighs, Bass planted kisses on Anette's lips. Bass pulled out, and shifted his body weight and laid next to Anette. She turned to face him. She was at a loss for words. She thought telling him how wonderful it was would be too cheesy. She brought her hand up to her mouth, and lightly traced her bottom lip, keeping Bass's gaze.

"Well…" she said. "I'm in for trouble, aren't I?"

"I sure hope you don't come to think of it as trouble, Anette," Bass said, putting her long, dark hair behind her ear. He noticed that Anette's eyes were getting heavy. He pulled forward and kissed her lips. "Sleep." And with that, Anette fell asleep next to the man who was using her as leverage, the man she knew deep down she shouldn't trust. All of that faded away as did the rest of the world.


End file.
